


Interlude: Tastes Divine

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Marks [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6856432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, Ronon Dex/Evan Lorne, Evan introduces Ronon to his favourite dessert."</p><p>Evan's favorite dessert is tiramisu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude: Tastes Divine

“What’s tiramisu?” Ronon asked.  
  
Teyla shook her head. “I am not familiar with this word.”  
  
“Evan says it’s a type of dessert. His favorite from Earth.”  
  
“I do not believe I have ever sampled any,” Teyla said, “so I could not describe it to you.”  
  
“I wasn’t sure. You’ve been around these people longer than I have.” Ronon shrugged. “Thanks anyway.” Evan had mentioned it, said he’d make some for Ronon, that it would be a really special treat. He had gotten a dreamy look on his face when he mentioned it, the kind of dreamy he got when he was imagining Ronon doing sexy things to him, so Ronon could only assume the dessert was some kind of aphrodisiac.  
  
Ronon was very curious about Earther traditions, because while his wooing of Evan had proved successful, he wanted to make sure Evan never felt unwanted, so learning new wooing techniques was necessary. Wooing a man with food was always a recommended venture. So Ronon headed over to the kitchen to ask the KP Marines what was going on.  
  
“Tiramisu?” Markham’s expression turned dreamy. “It’s delicious - cake and espresso and cream and chocolate powder on top. Why?”  
  
“Evan says it’s his favorite dessert and that he’d make me some.”  
  
Markham’s eyes narrowed. “He said he’d make you some?”  
  
Ronon nodded.  
  
“That means he has access to ingredients for tiramisu.” Markham spun around, called the lower-ranking Marines to attention. And directed them to begin a grid search on the kitchen.  
  
Earthers really were strange.  
  
When Evan caught up to Ronon later, he said, “What have you been saying to the Marines?”  
  
“I asked Markham about your tiramisu. Why?”  
  
Evan sighed. “Never mind. I’d better go put some added security on my quarters. Good thing the only other people on the expedition with stronger gene expressions than me are Sheppard and Beckett.” He pressed a kiss to Ronon’s cheek and hurried away.  
  
And that was the end of the whole tiramisu thing.  
  
Until one day Evan radioed for Ronon, summoned him to the kitchen.  
  
“I need you to stand guard,” Evan said. He handed Ronon a Wraith stunner and then turned to the array of cooking implements spread across the counter. There were pans, clubs made of wires, glass dishes, and all manner of ingredients Ronon had never encountered before.  
  
“Guard?” Ronon asked.  
  
“Keep the Marines out.” Evan pushed Ronon to the door and said, “Stand there. This will take forty minutes, tops.” And then he fired up the stove and began cracking eggs into a bowl.  
  
Ronon huffed, amused, but took up his post like the good soldier he was. Surely Evan was just being paranoid. The Marines would never -  
  
Wait. Footsteps. Someone was trying to be stealthy. Ronon readied the stunner, wary.  
  
And then Stackhouse came around the corner, went from a stealthy crouch to a casual stroll a moment too late. He lifted a hand to the radio at his ear, flashed Ronon a too-casual smile, and said, “Abort, abort!”  
  
Apparently Evan wasn’t paranoid. Ronon readjusted his assessment of the situation and stood guard. Multiple Marines passed by, each time in increasingly larger groups, but he glared at them, and they carried on.  
  
Forty minutes later, Evan said, “Come on. Let’s do this.”  
  
Everything on the counter was gone, thrown away or in the dishwasher, and Evan was tucking a foil-covered rectangular glass dish into a massive cooler full of ice. Ronon helped him get the dish into the cooler without dropping it, and together they made a break for Evan’s quarters with the cooler between them.  
  
“Stay with me,” Evan said. “I’ll tell Atlantis to only let command staff in, but who knows what those Marines will convince Sheppard or McKay or Dr. Weir to do.”  
  
Evan set the cooler within easy reach of the bed, stunner on top of it, and began undressing for sleep. Ronon undressed as well, and they curled up on Evan’s bed as best as they could (none of the beds in Atlantis, it seemed, were designed for two people).  
  
“This is a lot of effort for a dessert,” Ronon said.  
  
Evan hummed sleepily against Ronon’s throat. “It needs to cool overnight so the cream sets up. You’ll see. All of this will be worth it. You’ll understand why the Marines did what they did.”  
  
Ronon nodded, curled protectively around his lover, and fell asleep.

When Ronon woke the next morning, it was to Evan sitting on the edge of the bed, sleep-rumpled and half-nude with his head tipped back, eyes closed in bliss, as he chewed on what looked like a piece of cake.  
  
Evan opened his eyes and smiled at Ronon, scooped up a forkful of the cake - tiramisu was just cake? - and held it out.  
  
“Try it. It’s divine.”  
  
It - was horrible. It tasted like coffee. Ronon hated coffee.  
  
Evan’s smile faltered. “Don’t you like it?”  
  
“Not really.”  
  
“Oh.” Evan looked terribly disappointed. And then he groaned. “Wait. You hate coffee. I didn’t even think - of course you don’t like it. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t be sorry. Everyone in this place likes coffee.”  
  
“But I should have remembered you don’t. I -”  
  
Ronon shut him up with a kiss. And - huh. Coffee itself was horrible, but coffee-flavored kisses from Evan were actually pretty good. Ronon held out a forkful of the tiramisu.  
  
“Eat,” he said.  
  
Evan grinned. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” The way his lips closed over the morsel was borderline obscene. Ronon handed him the plate and fork, and Evan dug in. While he finished off his slice of the treat, Ronon covered the rest of the tiramisu with the foil and put it back in the cooler, which was mostly water at this point. Then he took the plate from Evan, set it aside, and pushed him down on the bed.  
  
“Hey, what are you -” Evan began.  
  
Ronon kissed him silent once more, stroking the Mark on the side of his throat, and Evan was a smart guy. He caught on pretty fast. They didn’t leave Evan’s quarters for the rest of the day, and by the time they did, the tiramisu was all gone, and Ronon had a new appreciation for coffee.


End file.
